Ambition
by GladiatorGoddess
Summary: Adrian Veidt's mass murder is made public, and with the unexpected help of Dr. Manhattan he claims the country. Can Leslie, a clever and conniving girl, penetrate his defenses and save her rebel friends? AdrianxOC
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen nor any of its characters.

Okay, just so you all know, I'm going with the movie ending as opposed to the comic ending (yes, I've seen/read both) because I prefer it enormously to the 'fake-alien invasion' bit. It seemed more...real, somehow. So in this fic, Adrian has used 'Dr. Manhattan's' energy to destroy half of New York, like in the movie.

Now, please be considerate in your reviews. I don't mind constructive criticism, but just telling me that it sucks doesn't help me. I also LOVE long, in-depth reviews!!

* * *

"Into the Mind of a Maniac"

The vivid white words stood out sharply against a midnight background. Adrian Veidt, CEO of Veidt Empire, sat at a rich mahogany desk, a copy of the earth's destruction in his hands.

"Rorschach, you fool," he murmured, swiveling in his chair to face the solid wall of televisions. All were on the same channel at the moment, and a middle-aged reporter sweated slightly on the screen.

"Retired vigilante and CEO Adrian Veidt of the Veidt Empire is Wanted for examination due to the publication of the mysterious journal, "Into the Mind of a Maniac." It is believed to have been written by a Mr. Walter Kovacs, aka the illegally-crusading Rorschach, who has not been seen since the terrible explosion and is not responding to any kind of summons. Mr. Veidt has been sent notification and though his trial is dated, many are clamoring for his immediate imprisonment and even his death. Riots are rampant in the streets, and even the police are proving difficult, as over half have joined the riots. The entire world is stirring to this stunning discovery, and we hold our breaths to..."

With a click, all of the television sets cut off. Adrian stood still for a few moments, anger and frustration cascading down him in waves. All for nothing...he had killed so many, _millions_, to save his beautiful planet, but now his ingenius plan lay in shards around him as his masterpiece fell apart at his feet. For all of his effort, for all of his concern, he was potentially the most hated man on earth, the worst criminal of them all. Instead of saving the planet, he had doomed it and himself.

He could save himself, certainly. He could threaten to set off another 'bomb', but what would that help? He wouldn't be hated any less, and the world would still be teetering on the edge of violence. He wanted to stop this destruction, to stop the chaos...but it had all been for nothing. Rorschach was dead, Jon had disappeared, half of New York had been obliterated for world peace, and it had all been wasted.

Adrian whirled suddenly and brought his fist down upon the polished mahogany desk. It broke under his hand with a loud smash, collapsing to the floor and into a heap of splinters and dust. His hand had torn a little on the wood; he paused and inspected the stream of freely-flowing crimson blood. A shard of wood had sliced deeply into the back of his hand, and he grabbed a handful of his cape to wipe it off. Someone gasped behind him and he turned.

A young servant girl stood in the doorway of his office, her dark eyes wide with shock. Adrian straightened, quite aware of the blood pooling at his feet.

"Imani," he murmured, bowing his head. She stared in disbelief for a moment longer before bobbing into an awkward curtsy. Adrian knew each of his hundreds of servants well; Imani was from Swahili, a young girl who Adrian had picked up on his way back from a charity event. She'd been begging listlessly near the street, and he had taken pity on her. She had been quite a sight; her feet had been poorly bandaged and her bones jutted through her delicate skin. It would have been a pity to let her starve; her enormous eyes had shone so beautifully, despite her pitiful conditions.

Yolanda, his head housekeeper, had raised her dutifully as her own child. Now she was a well-mannered, round-faced ten-year-old girl who took lessons from a private headmistress and occasionally joined him at the table. She spoke English fluently, despite her lingering accent. He couldn't blame her, though. He never truly managed to lose his own accent.

"Wait here, Mr. Veidt!" she cried, racing from the room. He stepped forward to stop her but she was gone before he could say anything. Sighing, he looked down; it _was _quite a lot of blood. He attempted to wipe off his hand a little bit, but it was no use. Imani ran back into the room, her bare feet dancing across the floor.

"Here, Mr. Veidt," she panted breathlessly, dipping the thick cloth into the shallow bowl of clear, warm water. He winced when she took his hand and wiped it gently, cleaning away the drying blood. The water must have been mixed with some sort of disinfectant, for it stung sharply against the cut.

"Thank you, Imani," he murmured as she wound a strip of bandage around his hand. She cast him an exasperated smile and shook her head.

"Sir, excuse my language, but that's the second time you've broken your desk and Mr. Devault is going to _murder _your ass," she laughed, referring to the bad-tempered custodian of his fortress. He managed a chuckle; the first time was when he was informed of the release of Rorschach's journal. "There. That should do. And please, Mr. Veidt, try not to break any more furniture this week. My first-aid skills only extend so far." With a little laugh she gathered the bowl and cloths into her slender arms and left, her mother-of-pearl dress flashing in the light cast from the fireplace.

Adrian sat on the hard wooden chair, his head in his hands. At least he could trust that Imani would never turn on him. As far as the rest of his staff...well, he could handle them when they came. For the moment he had bigger problems.

"If only they'd let me help them...I could _fix _this! I could fix this planet..." he murmured, shaking his head slowly. "If they'd let me..." A loud crash resounded in his office, and he whirled around. To his complete and utter surprise, Jon stood in the center of the room, looking around with mild interest.

"Jon!" Adrian leapt to his feet nimbly, his worries evaporating. He couldn't imagine why his old friend would come back so soon, as he had been avoiding Earth's chaotic nature in other galaxies. Jon's gaze seemed more detached than usual, but he held out his hand as always and greeted Adrian in his old manner.

"We're supposed to talk," murmured Jon vaguely, and Adrian cast aside any confusion that this would typically incite. He had stopped trying to make sense of Jon ages ago, and besides, he had important matters to dicsuss.

"Yes, we certainly do," said Adrian seriously, guiding his friend to the comfortable grouping of chairs glowing in the light of the fireplace. They sat together, two great minds in a jumbled world.

"They know," said Jon immediately, and Adrian smiled.

"Glad you're up to date. Might I ask _how _you're in the loop so quickly?" he chuckled naturally. It felt good to laugh again. The burden of the earth was a depressing one, and he did so love to laugh. Jon stared soberly into the fire.

"Not a lot of things have you on edge, Adrian. This is really the only thing that could possibly threaten you; the fate of your beloved planet. The countries are falling back into war. You've failed," said Jon, tearing his eyes from the fire to gaze intently at Adrian. "You look older."

"It's been less than two weeks," said Adrian weakly, but it wasn't any use to deny it. He _felt _older. Despite his outstanding physique, his constant worrying had weighed him down immensely. Jon continued to stare for a moment before raising his hand. Adrian felt an odd tingle race through his entire body and felt more relaxed, more lucid. He took a deep, comfortable breath and gasped.

"Is that better?" asked Jon emotionlessly, his pale eyes strangely curious. Adrian huffed out a breath in disbelief, pausing to stretch a little.

"Yes...that's nice," he grinned, rolling his shoulders. "Though I'd like to ask you not to experiment on me too frequently. I know that look. Besides, we have important matters to discuss. I have a plan...it's shakier than the last one but also sturdier. It's going to be difficult to pull off, but if I do it then it will make the future considerably brighter."

"It's immoral. It's dangerous. Tell me," demanded Jon, hindered and helped by his own vision. Jon's incredible ability to see all time at once made him able to know what was coming, but he truly couldn't change his decisions as easily as might have been expected. He was really like a puppet watching his own strings. Adrian wanted to tell him, but he couldn't explain it right. He stood and paced restlessly, marveling at his fluid motions. Whatever Jon had done to him was extremely beneficial.

"The Egyptians held somewhat theocratic views in their leaders; that is, they believed that their Pharoahs were descended from gods. The Pharoahs had incredible power and if wielded responsibly, they produced a country of devastating strength and riches." He turned and faced Jon, who was watching the fire again. He spoke hesitantly, anxious about the judgment of his friend. "_I _could wield power responsibly."

"You're better suited to it than anyone else," said Jon impassively, "You're more dedicated to the common good than to the individual, though I'm sure you, of all people, would find a way to stick them together." Adrian smiled, and turned away, watching the snow fall across his icy empire.

"Though I must know...why would you come back? I know you '_had to talk to me_,' but that's not really your type of motivation. Laurie might have been enough, but she had sex appeal," laughed Adrian, "and I'd like to think that that's not the reason." Jon sat in silence for a few moments. Adrian poured himself a scotch while he waited for Jon to process his answer.

"I've visited hundreds of galaxies since I left. I can't explain the physics of them, or the beings that crossed them. And yet, in the many that I've visited, I've never seen anything like Earth. I've seen more advanced creatures, I've seen more incredible in countless ways. I've seen greater miracles, more infinite odds. I've seen more beautiful, more destructive, landscapes than any on this planet could conceive. And yet...something draws me here. Perhaps it's my human nature calling me back; after all, it is the land of my birth in all ways. I think I'd like to observe the humans for a little while longer, perhaps a few hundred years. I'll give them one thing; I haven't met creatures quite as chaotic."

"So...you're homesick and bored," Adrian said shortly, and Jon laughed for the first time since he had arrived. He, too, seemed lighter. They were giants who observed the worlds from their feet, though one was considerably limited. Jon considered this.

"Perhaps a better way to explain; I'm still intrigued by humans, I think. I know how to destroy them, but I haven't a clue as to putting them back together. Out of the things I've learned, things I can perceive, human life is at the bottom."

"Let's work together, then. I can make this rat-hole a place worth living in and you'll have all the humans you need to study how they work." He smiled and seated himself again by Jon.

"I don't want to hurt them," murmured Jon, pitying the living creatures that so mystified him.

"Then don't."

* * *

Sixteen men shivered in the rushing cold of the Arctic tundra. Veidt's fortress wasn't too far ahead and they were getting nervous. Adrian had been notoriously fast, strong, and intelligent, and the rumors that they'd heard had shaken them severely. Captain Ross paced ahead of them, his AK-47 clenched tight in his bunched fists. He, too, was cold and scared, but his job was to motivate the men, to take away their fear.

"Boys, I know you've heard some shit flying around," he growled, "but don't think too hard on it. Adrian Veidt is no Dr. Manhattan; he's one-hundred percent human and one-hundred percent mortal. He's also reasonable, and if we can take him alive, we do. Our job is not to kill Mr. Veidt, but to apprehend him. Be careful and keep your heads on your shoulders, and you all will do just fine."

They didn't cheer, but they looked considerably lightened. A few grinned cheerily. Captain Ross waved them forward and on they marched.

The massive steel doors were already open for them and they exchanged long, wary glances. They had terrain, surprise, and confidence against them. The odds were not looking good. Captain Ross set the first ice-coated boot inside, smothering his anxiety. Nothing happened, and he urged the rest of his team onwards. The faced all directions, guns pointing every which way. Ross might have chided them but his jaw seemed to be clenched too tightly for him to loose it.

The ceiling stretched endlessly above them, the silent snow gently stroking the glass. It was considerably warmed inside, making them all lucid and sleepy. Ross shook himself and grunted towards the others. A delicious smell came from somewhere, and he was again reminded that they hadn't eaten since the other day.

The dark was eerily quiet, but nothing came at them. This, however, seemed to worsten the situation. They all appeared to expect a sudden and gristly death. The room ahead of them was light, though, and they pressed onward with edginess bordering eager.

Adrian Veidt stood with his back to them, a glass of champagne alighted in his slender hand. He turned slowly, a polite smile gracing his handsome features. The badly-camoflauged, sweaty, clumsy men felt foolish in his presence, but he opened his arms as if to welcome them.

"Men," he said warmly, "have something to drink." An attractive girl carrying a platter carried in several various glasses of liquor, but they all stood their ground as if expecting her to pull a gun. Adrian shrugged lithely.

"Veidt, we have orders to apprehend you," barked Ross, and all were relieved to hear him speak first. "Whether or not you come quietly is up to you, but we're bringing to to Headquarters." Adrian laughed charmingly.

"Of course, of course," he chuckled, "but why would you assume that I'd come quietly?" They all stood in shock, a nervous tingle racing through the group. But Adrian simply turned his head to a wide door to their right. Everyone immediately followed his gaze and cried out in awe. They all simultaneously dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, arms extended. Ross fell last, but he fell all the same.

"Bring the President a message from me. Dr. Manhattan is back, and he's on _my _side." He let the words sink in, watched them tremble. They would soon know, though. They would know that he did all of this for them. "Now, boys, would you care to join me for dinner?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the Watchmen characters.

Once again, constructive criticism! I've gotten some nice reviews, thanks guys! They're really helping me along in writing this. Also, I have the strangest tendency to slowly make each chapter longer than the last, so there will definitely be longer chapters coming, I promise!

* * *

New York reeled from the terrible blow that had destroyed half of its capitol city less than a month before. No state clamored more for the apprehension of Adrian Veidt. The civilians were doing what they could to pick up the pieces and keep moving forward, but every day they faced the horror of such a deed.

Leslie Jannison walked the mid-line, her hands deep in her ratty jean pockets and her dark blue hood shadowing her face. It was a miserable day, almost more so than usual. There was hardly a cheerful face after the incident. Leslie didn't have a smile to share, either. Her dirty gray sneakers slapped the ground with a cold, dead finality. The cloudy skies vomited ugly rain over the destroyed buildings.

An old newspaper was spread between her grubby hands. Satan on Earth, Adrian Veidt, took up the entire cover. He was the most hated man in America, and she joined the masses. Leslie had been following the events of the last few weeks religiously, and couldn't stem the rage that flowed over Dr. Manhattan's return and alliance with this beast. The paper was old, though, and she hungered for updates.

She stopped in front of a large window; five televisions were trained on the News channel. A small crowd had gathered, and she elbowed her way to the front, ignoring the glares. The anchor was halfway through the first topic, and she wasn't surprised at all to find who it was about.

"America stands in a danger zone right now. Adrian Veidt and Dr. Manhattan seem to be debating the future of the United States...without bothering to include its leaders and citizens. Outrage and indignation flood the country, but all attempts to arrest either man have ended in failure. With Dr. Manhattan's power and Veidt's technology, every city on earth is at risk of destruction. This is a sad day in history, where the keys to the country, the _future_, are resting in the hands of these criminals. President Reagan and Pentagon are currently discussing the state of the emergency as well as the possibility of launching a full-scale war on two men. The matter is being presented to Congress a week from today."

Leslie ground her teeth together, shoving away from the gathered people and continuing her march along the muddy sidewalks. They were so empty; she had lived in New York all her life and never, even at night, had it been this empty. So many people were gone...the hobo who sat by this alley, the little girl who walked her dog every morning with impressive dedication, the woman who got up at four to start her first job and left it by noon to start her second...

She tore Adrian's face to shreds from the newspaper and threw the confetti as violently as she could into the nearest trash can. _Damn him...damn him to hell! I'll be dead before he runs this country._

She didn't notice that she was being followed. Two young men walked behind her, their eyes watching her every motion. They nodded discreetly to each other and increased pace. Leslie heard the sound of running behind her and turned just in time to be yanked into a nearby alley.

Tearing herself free of the stunned boys, she cocked her arm and floored the first one, her short black hair swinging into her face. Turning, she grabbed the end of what looked like a shortish metal bar and took a swing at the second one, who ducked just in time to avoid getting hit. He was tall, and much older than the first one, who was still on the ground rubbing his jaw. Swinging the bar again, she took advantage of the opening he made by leaping back and jabbed it in his stomach. He grunted and fell.

Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a short knife.

"Wait! Wait!" sputtered the first one, kicking himself away from her. "We just wanted to talk!" She ignored him and continued her stride, raising the knife. For a month the entire city mourned its dead, its terrible disaster...and these two bastards took advantage of everyone's grief, of everyone's distraction. _Not today_.

Two strong arms suddenly wound themselves around her, binding her effectively. She screamed, but the first one leapt up and covered her mouth. She bit him but even the streaming blood didn't make him let go.

"You don't like Veidt. Neither do we," hissed the second one into her ear, the one that held her captive, and she abruptly stopped struggling. The first one removed his hand and rubbed the bite, wincing. "My name is Bobby Sacher, and this is my brother Paul. We're recruiting for the Anti-Veidt Movement, and you seem to share our views." Leslie snorted.

"Right. I'm willing to bet that there are dozens of Groups around the world after Veidt. What's the point of one more? It's not like you're any different from the rest, bunching together in the hopes that it will make a difference. It won't."

"That's where you're wrong," hissed the first boy, Paul, viciously. "We have plans running right now, and thought that a few more people would like to be in on them. We need all the help that we can get." Leslie stared at the two boys for a moment, and then held out her hand.

"I'm Leslie. Tell me about these plans."

* * *

It was startling how many people lounged around the wide, hidden rooms. It looked like an old bomb shelter, but much larger. Leslie wondered if it had been meant for the impending Nuclear War. Bobby pulled her through the crowd, searching for someone.

An older man waved from across the dimly lit room, and they headed in his direction. He was seated at a table with several other older men and women, all of whom eyed Leslie with distrust.

"Uncle Henry, this is Leslie. She happens to share our opinions and goals, I thought she might be able to help." Several of the people laughed and Leslie felt her ears burn.

"Help? How could _she _help? How old is she, seventeen? Eighteen?" they scoffed. "You need to stop picking up girls your age and find some strapping _men_."

"I'm twenty," growled Leslie through her teeth. Bobby squeezed her hand, which she realized that he still held. She tried not to blush. The man, Uncle Henry, examined her carefully.

"I wouldn't say that," he muttered, turning back to his laptop. "According to these stats, Veidt tends to hire women. He seems to find them more trustworthy, less deceitful than men, and less of a threat. We don't need _strapping men_ on the inside. Anyone would do. Here, see? Eighty-five percent of his employees are women between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five; old enough to carry out responsibilities and young enough to be charmed and flattered by him. He's no idiot; I'm sure that they're all head over heels for him, and obviously unlikely to deceive him." Leslie laughed.

"I'd be the last girl in there to follow him to hell." Uncle Henry smiled at her cheek.

"And that's why we need someone like you on the inside."

"But...how would that be possible? The fortress would be on high-alert, it's not like I could just sneak in. It's in Antarctica, for Christ's sake...there's surveillance everywhere, it would be impossible to get in," she said, and Henry grinned widely.

"Of course...unless they're hiring. His employees come from _some_where, you know, and over half had quit once they found out about the New York incident. His people scouring ads and sites in hopes of replacing them."

"But why would they hire me? I'm a nobody, just another no-name girl in New York," she muttered. One of considerably _less _no-name girls in New York. Henry turned back to his computer and pulled up a page.

"There. The Veidt-Support Club in Miami. The website is being run by a friend of mine in Florida, and all profiles are extremely well-placed. Veidt himself wouldn't be able to realize that you're not the same person as in the ad, let alone his hiring teams. By disguising our movement as a support group, we're under the radar."

Leslie examined the web page carefully. It gushed about morality and common good, with pictures of Veidt's arrogant face thrown haphazardly around. Group members had created fake forums, fake profiles, and real pictures. They all looked cheerful and friendly and worry-free. She recognized a few faces from people who lounged around the old bomb shelter. Leslie smiled.

"Where do I sign up?"

* * *

Selling his company had almost been painful for Adrian. It had been his own creation, the company that he had built from the foundation up. But his stocks were falling rapidly, and he pulled what he could from the failing business. It didn't matter, really, as he was still worth billions, but his company had been something of a pet to him, something that had always been there.

His meeting with the Senators was coming up, and he knew exactly how to handle it. His success was inevitable; he had Nuclear Reactors on his side and also Jon, who somehow instilled more fear even though he was much less deadly to them. Jon was much more difficult to incite than Adrian.

"The people don't seem happy with you," murmured Jon dreamily, wandering into the room. "They're rioting."

"Of course they are. They don't know what I plan, and they're scared because they know so little about me. They're angry that they don't get a say in this matter, and it's all that they can do to show their indignity. I had expected it, really. It's lucky that so few of them can reach Antarctica or it might be a problem."

"Do you plan on moving back to America? Or do you plan to run it from here?" asked Jon. Adrian frowned.

"I don't see why I can't stay here. With technology today, it shouldn't be a problem." He gazed out of the enormous windows and into the blindingly white snow. "I'd hate to leave this place. It has it's own sort of beauty."

Imani walked into the room with several folders in her arms. She handed them carefully to Adrian.

"These are from the Senators, Mr. Veidt," she said, eying Jon nervously. She turned and cantered from the room while Adrian flipped through the papers.

"Hmm...it seems they've canceled their meetings," murmured Adrian, "I wonder why that could be..."

"Watch out for that girl," said Jon abruptly. "She's going to be up to something, and it appears to be against your well-being." Adrian turned and stared at Jon.

"Imani? That's not possible...she's lived with me for years. I've clothed, housed, and fed that girl! What could she possibly have against me?" said Adrian, but he was suspicious and doubtful nonetheless. Jon's visions had never failed him, and he didn't doubt him now.

"I don't know. Maybe some relatives of hers died in New York. Maybe she sides with the rioters," said John emotionlessly. "All the same; watch out for her." Adrian scoffed.

"I don't have time to keep tabs on all of the people living here." He pressed a small button on the side of his Armani watch. "Rosella, send Imani to Chicago with fifty thousand. Give my old friend Lucas Keene a call, and have him pick her up. If she asks why, tell her I'm sending her to boarding school, and wing it from there. Send her somewhere nice."

"Adrian, if you sent everyone who disliked you away, America would be empty," said Jon, and Adrian gave a dry laugh.

"Thanks. Good to know, coming from you. They'll like me when they see what I do for the country." He rolled his shoulders fluidly. "Christ, Jon, I feel excellent. What did you-" He froze, eyes widening. "You didn't..."

"I've been practicing my manipulation of human organs and bones. It's easier to understand how they work once I fully master manipulation." Adrian was silent for a moment.

"H...how old am I now?" he asked softly. He'd noticed how smooth and flawless his features had become, but he hadn't thought much of it. It wouldn't have surprised him to learn that Jon was manipulating human skin. But his muscles were considerably relaxed and he had seemed more flexible during his morning exercises. He'd felt lighter, freer, and now it finally dawned on him why.

"It's hard to tell, you're not at an exact 'age.' I just extended your life by a few years." Adrian didn't feel much better about this. 'A few years' to Jon was anywhere between two and a hundred. _'Please don't let me be under twenty,' _he begged of whatever god was listening.

"Extended...by how much?" whispered Adrian faintly. Jon furrowed his brow.

"I'd say about twenty years or so, give or take."

"Then I'm...twenty-four?" gasped Adrian, stunned. He wasn't of the population who would enjoy being in his twenties again. He had enjoyed his youth, yes, but he had moved on to an experienced, more graceful generation. He had enjoyed setting a trail for the young, leaving the bar a tad higher than the last. He had enjoyed youth, but he didn't want to do it again. "Change me back!"

"Are you sure?" asked Jon, confused. "I was under the impression that you _liked _feeling younger." Adrian hesitated.

"I do...I just don't like _being _younger. I mean..." he tried to gather his thoughts. With older age came the aches and worries, and he had enough of those to start with. Besides, he was much more limber and marginally stronger. He hadn't deteriorated enough for it to bother him, but it was a noticeble difference in his own eyes. "I'll think about it...it's nice, it truly is. I just don't know if I want to go through this again."

_"Mr. Veidt,"_ a female voice came through his watch, _"Imani ran a considerable portion of housework. We'll need to run an ad if you still plan on sending her to Mr. Keene." _Adrian sighed.

"I'd rather you didn't run an ad, Rosella. Please check through my support groups and see if you can pull someone who isn't trying to kill me. Thanks."

* * *

Please leave a review! I love hearing about I'm doing!!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen

Some of you have mentioned the uncharacteristic re-appearance of Jon, and I'm sorry, I think I get what you mean...but of my analysis he's pretty unpredictable, too, so I didn't think it would be _too _horrifyingly out-of-character...

Also, thank you for the positive reviews, too! They were very awesome to read! Feel free to review this chapter, too, haha I NEVER mind reading reviews.

* * *

Sleeping in the bomb shelter was uncomfortable at best, but better than going back to her empty apartment. Anything, really, was better than going back. Leslie had taken to sleeping on benches in the park, preferring the appearance of a homeless girl to the grief that waited for her return. Anything was better than that.

It had been over a week since she had first met these people. She shared meals with them, shared news, shared so much more than she could have with anyone else. Bobby and Paul had become fast friends; they liked to accompany her on walks around the destroyed half of the city. This place provided the shelter that she had needed.

Her dreams were the joyful, wondrous release from the world's pain that her mind craved, and yet they were somehow worse; for when she woke up, she was stuck with the gritty, ugly planet and knew that nothing she had imagined was real.

It had been less than a month since the terrible tragedy, and Leslie still grieved for the life that she had lost. She still dreamed about it every night, still screamed and cried in her sleep. No, that wasn't true; she screamed and cried before sleep, and she screamed and cried after sleep. During sleep, she lived again in the life that she could once call her own.

_A girl sat in front of the television, her jade-green eyes fixed on the grainy screen. She was taking notes on something...but she couldn't recall what. Anyways, cartoons were on again and Kim had always loved cartoons. What was that one again? The one with the cat..._

_"Kim! That cat-thing is on again!" she calls, but no one answers her. She remembers that she's alone today, that no one is home. Mom is running errands on the other side of town, she left with dad that morning on his way to work. Kim is at a friend's house till four. She leans against the rough cloth couch, her eyes tired...so tired..._

_She closes them for a while. Everything is silent, perfect. The world is quiet. Nobody bombs anybody today, everyone just sleeps. Tomorrow she will wake up and go to the beach, since she doesn't have to return to school until August. She enjoys college, and can't wait to go back. She won't have to share her space with her family anymore. She won't have her pesky little sister around to bother her, or her parents to scold her._

_Everything is silent.  
_

_A bright light blinds her through her eyelids, and the apartment complex trembles. A crashing sound, an earthquake, and she is standing outside. Her home is in ruins, but when she turns it is still there. Mom and dad and Kim come running from the shop next door, which is as bright and sunny as it had ever been. They envelope her in their cool, loving arms._

_"Leslie! You're okay! Oh, you're okay," they sigh, but they're wrong. She shakes them off angrily._

_"No, _you're_ okay," she insists, but they're gone, and where each one had stood there was a small pile of charred bones and dust. Everything around her crumbles, and she stands in the sickening emptiness until the breath leaves her lungs._

"Leslie! Leslie, wake up!" cried a voice from far away. Leslie felt gone, as if she is floating in space as her breath, her life, is sucked away. Then she realizes that she's in the bomb shelter, she's safe, and she's screaming. She cuts off the scream but she can't cut off her breath. Her body shook with sobs.

"I'm...I'm...s-s-s-sorry," she whimpered, covering her face with her hands. Bobby blinked dumbly for a minute before stretching his long arms around her. She crumbled into them, trembling. "Nobody h-here likes m-m-me anyways..."

"Sssh," he soothed her, rubbing her back gently, "You're not the only one like this. At least six other people wake up screaming. You're not alone here."

And, for the first time in weeks, she realized that she isn't.

He continued to hold her, even though she's stopped crying. His arms fit perfectly around her, her head tucked neatly under his chin. Her face warmed with that impossible blush that never failed to embarrass her. They clung together in the stillness of the night, in the new silence of half a city. Leslie pulled her head back and stared into his eyes; they were a silky shade of brown, framed by long, dark lashes. He smiled shyly and she blushed again.

"How did you end up here?" she whispered, glad that everyone else was asleep. They had pulled sleeping bags from closets and curled around each other companionably on the floor. She was much too new to incite such camaraderie, and settled with a few stained blankets in the corner. They weren't hostile; just wary of the new arrival. She'd received many friendly smiles since she'd shown up.

"My mom died in the explosion. My dad left fourteen years ago, I have no idea what happened to him, not that I care. Uncle Henry is my mom's brother-in-law, and he runs the Anti-Veidt corporation along with his sister in Florida. They had actually been against Veidt since he revealed himself, but now...they're livid. I honestly don't know what they'll do if he gets control of this country, at least, publicly. Generally speaking he's already got the government in his hands," growled Bobby, his expression darkening. "We've been trying to get someone on the inside, since we can't do much from out here."

"Let's not talk about that...please," begged Leslie, taking his cold hands into hers. "I'm sick of hearing about it. I hate him so much...I just don't want to hear his name anymore."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I hope you don't get picked to leave. You'd go nuts over there." She laughed softly and punched his arm.

"Are you sure that's why you don't want me to leave? You're sure?" she teased, wrinkling her nose. He grinned, leaning forward to kiss her. Stunned, it took her a few moments to react. She pressed her lips against his, a thrill running through her as they sat entwined together amongst the slumbering crowd. She pulled away, panting, her emerald eyes shining in the moonlight.

"I don't know you," she giggled, biting his jaw gently. "This is too soon...it's that baby-boom thing going on, ya' know, people think some disaster is going to happen and they go crazy trying to get things done that they normally wouldn't..." She stopped when she realized that she was babbling and flushed. Bobby Sacher laughed and cradled her face gently, as if she were the most beautiful thing on earth. Her heart flew.

"So?"

She kissed him again.

* * *

"Leslie. You've been hired."

It was like a curse and a blessing raining over her. Here was her golden opportunity to bring down the monster, the controlling bastard who was responsible for the deaths of millions...and she was also leaving these people behind, these people whom she had barely met and yet shared so much with. Dozens of shadowed eyes rested upon her, some pitying, some resentful, and some outraged. The angry ones were the loudest.

"We can't send her! How can we trust her?"

"She's too young!"

"She's not smart enough! Veidt will figure her out in no time!"

"How do we know she's on our side?"

"She can't do it!"

The shouts of a hundred people vibrated against the cracked cement walls, and Henry waved his hands for quiet. After a few minutes, everyone finally listened to what he had to say.

"Perhaps it's better that she hasn't been here long. She doesn't know the inner workings of the system, she doesn't know the people very well...it would make it easier for her to lie. Besides, even if she did give us away," he continued, ignoring my indignant expression, "there's nothing she could do to prove it short of dragging them here, which of course wouldn't happen. At worst she'd be fired, at best not. It's foolproof."

Leslie stared at the ground. Now that she had her chance...she wasn't sure if she wanted it or not. Her revenge, her anger screamed to end Veidt's existence, his murderous life...but another part of her wanted to stay here, with people who understood her and Bobby Sacher who admired her. A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and she looked up at Henry, who was standing over her. She noticed absently that his eyes were Bobby's shade of warm brown.

"Leslie, it's up to you whether or not you'd like to take the job. We'd be extremely grateful if you did, but that doesn't mean that you have to. They might pick someone else from the same site. Anyways, they've messaged you already and you're free to respond however you like...but give us time to brief you before you go."

Everyone was silent as she continued to stare at the ground.

"Well, I don't have much to lose. I'll do it."

* * *

The flight was much too lavish for her to trust. Who sends a private jet, complete with fully stocked refrigerator and hot tub, to pick up a prospective employee? The buxom blonde who accompanied her flight seemed to sense Leslie's surprise.

"I know it's a little...extravagant," she laughed, "but Mr. Veidt doesn't cut corners. So, what was your name again?" Leslie smiled and flipped her short dark hair back from her face. She wanted to appear as bright and likable as possible, under the circumstances. The blonde's eyes were a little too inquisitive.

"Leslie Jannison," she said, relieved that she didn't have to lie about her name. She wanted to lie as infrequently as possible, to have less chances of getting caught. The woman smiled and held out a perfectly manicured hand.

"Rosella Hunt. Nice to meet you," she said warmly. "So, where were your parents? I didn't see them at the airport."

"My dad...left us a few years ago. My mom was at her job, she works a lot and doesn't have much time for stuff like this. I was hoping that a job like this would help me put my little sister through college, you know? It's a good job, I never thought that being a member of that club would get me anything like this!" It was an enormous lie...Leslie was glad to have kept her name. Rosella bought it all and smiled sympathetically.

"That's too bad. But you won't get such freedom here. Surveillance cameras, guards, ridiculous amounts of work...since that book went public Adrian's been doing everything to weed out who he can trust and who he can't. Whoops...Mr. Veidt. He never minds being called Adrian, but in public it looks better to be called Mr. Veidt, so don't let calling him by his first name get to be a habit, okay?" she said, laughing again. Leslie couldn't understand why she was so happy, or so friendly with Veidt. Didn't she know about what happened?

"Oh, I won't."

The snow poured lavishly around the jet, falling so thick that it was nearly impossible to see out of the glossy windows. But Leslie caught glimpses of the fortress, secure in its cranny in the corner of the world. Adrian Veidt lived here. Leslie sucked in a slow, angry breath that Rosella mistook for awe.

"Yes, I know," she sighed, staring out at the towering structure, "it's beautiful..."

Leslie glanced at Rosella. She was extremely attractive, and looked to be in her mid to early-thirties. Her expression was complete contentment and satisfaction in her place. Leslie burned to know why she was so attracted to her job.

"Rosella," she began hesitantly, "I know a lot of employees left after the...New York incident...but why did you stay?" Rosella smiled slowly.

"It's...hard to explain. I do understand why others left, and I did consider it myself, but...I just couldn't. Adrian isn't a monster, no matter what the papers and the public say. You'll see, you just have to spend some time with him. He's kind, generous, selfless...even if a bit egotistical, he's perfectly sane. I love my job here, and I couldn't leave him. Don't get me wrong, there's no kind of romantic interest. It's not like that. I've worked for him for years, I've seen his good days and his bad...but let me tell you, the good always outweigh the bad." Her clear blue eyes wandered again to the approaching fortress. "Always."

The jet lands smoothly on the landing strip. Not even Rosella's martini is jarred as it touches ground, and the stop is just as comfortable. Bundled in her thick winter coat, Leslie braces herself for the blast of cold air as the doors open, but the air inside of the...what was it, a massive garage for airplanes?...was just as warm as the inside of the jet. Somehow this infuriated her.

"You'll be meeting Mr. Veidt tonight for dinner. Wear something comfortable," said Rosella, pulling something out of her pocket. "Here, these are your room keys. The dorms are on the fourth floor, your room number is here on the key. There should be a letter on the bed, just page me if you get lost or need anything, okay?" Leslie nodded, eager to escape to her room. She turned, but several men were already carrying her bags out of the jet. Rosella touched her shoulder briefly.

"Good luck, hun," she whispered, winking once before whirling around and heading for a separate door. Leslie watched her go for a moment before following the men carrying her luggage.

The elevator was as roomy and hospitable as everything else had been. Cloaked in soft red velvet and shined to perfection, it moved in absolute silence but for the jazzy, up-to-date elevator music. Everything was so utterly welcoming that she couldn't help but feel right here. Even the staff was happy and friendly.

The fourth floor was lined with identical doors that were decorated in personal, lavish styles. Some held gold-plated names, while others held beautiful works of art or were painted on themselves. Her door was startlingly bare, which was what she wanted. She didn't want to leave anything behind here when she left. She refused to make a mark in this enemy territory. Nothing of her would be left behind, there would be nothing for her to miss.

But when she opened the door, she couldn't help but gasp and sigh in pained adoration.

The dorm was roomy enough to be comfortable and small enough to be cozy. The walls of the living room were pastel blue lined with buttery gold, and the kitchen was gleaming white tile and marble. An enormous bay window revealed the stretching, snow-flecked ocean, and squashy-looking gold couches sat at snug angles. The floor was hugged by thick, navy blue carpeting, and a wide marble coffee table made its dents in the middle of the sofas. Leslie walked towards the bedroom in disbelief, not able to imagine a more beautiful room. The bedroom, however, proved to be just as unique and inviting as the living room had been.

Luscious red carpeting covered the bedroom floor, and a perfect white king-sized bed took up the center of the room. Gauzy canopy encicled it, and yet another bay window opened to the wonderland outside, this one containing comfortable cushions in what looked like a reading area. Sure enough, a study cherry bookshelf stood jauntily by the door, containing countless brand-new novels. A closet took up nearly an entire wall, and she didn't dare look inside of it yet.

Sure enough, a plain white envelope lay on the maroon pillows. It looked almost pathetic, surrounded by all of this splendor, but in her ragged jeans and dirty sneakers, Leslie really didn't feel like she could point fingers. She ripped open the envelope with a sharp nail. A typed letter fell onto the white bedspread.

_Ms. Jannison:_

_Thank you for accepting this employment in Karnak, I look forward to seeing you around this area since, as you can tell, there aren't many new faces here. I hope that you feel welcome here, and help yourself to the pantries and the mail-order website that should be bookmarked on your computer. Your measurements have been assessed and you should find your wardrobe fully stocked, complete with jewlery and shoes. I would remind you, however, that everything found in the room is considered a loan; please be careful with what you are given. Damages will not be charged but any further items you wish to have will come directly from your pay._

_On a less financial note, I would be delighted if you could join me to dinner tonight. It is served at seven sharp, and dress is, of course, casual. I apologize for any inconvenience, but as you know I am vegetarian, and the menu will be as such. It may seem strange to you, but I make a point to familiarize myself with employees._

_Daily work is flexible and can change over time. For now you are assigned to tend the greenhouse, which I'm sure you will enjoy, coming from Florida. The tasks sheets are available in the Staff Greenhouse Room, to the left of the entrance. Maps are scattered across Karnak, so finding your way should not prove difficult. Your job starts tomorrow morning at 9:00 am, and ends when you finish the list. The rest of the day is free for you to do whatever you like, though you are only paid for the hours that you work. I will also warn you not to loiter; my apologies, again, but security cameras are currently monitoring the premesis and my managers are rather strict, I'm afraid._

_I'm sure that you will adjust to the atmosphere here perfectly. The employees, too, enjoy long breaks and various activities in the indoor gymnasium, arcade, and lounge. Please help yourself to any of these areas in the marked locations. However, my personal gymnasium is off limits to employees as we have had problems with injuries before._

_I look forward to meeting you tonight._

_ -Adrian Veidt_

Leslie ran a hand through her hair, realizing that it was already five and she needed to shower before going down to dinner, and that she also needed to find _where _it was exactly that she was going.

Catching herself, she lowered her hand. This wasn't a spa, and this wasn't the time to enjoy such a perfect job, the kind she had always dreamed of. This was revenge, and she had made it to the inside. She turned on the computer.

But...then again, she also had to keep a low profile for a few weeks until the plan was sorted out. She slowly turned and headed for the bathroom, which was sure to be outrageously beautiful. Her hands trembled as she slipped out of her clothes.

Would she be able to lie to his face?


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Watchmen characters are not mine. Leslie, however, is mine. BACK! BACK, YOU FIENDS!

Though I might be changing her name...(IE editing past chapters and changing her name throughout)

I was thinking: Melanie, Heath, Roxanne...

and if you guys feel like suggesting a name, go right ahead and stick it in your review. I've decided I don't like Leslie much, either XP

Thank you all for the faithful reviews!!! There are a few specific people whose reviews I look forward to frequently haha not that I don't look forward to ALL reviews. As usual, please R&R!!

* * *

The hot water felt good, better than she had expected. It burned a trail down her back, erasing the memory of the bomb shelter and the lukewarm, more often icy, showers. Leslie took her time scrubbing, lathering, and thoroughly cleansing her body. She shaved her legs, too, though she wasn't sure why; perhaps for the feel of it, as she hadn't seen the need to shave since the explosion. Smooth legs were always something that she had enjoyed.

The handles turned without a squeak, shutting the water off completely. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in two voluminous towels. The enormous marble tub stared balefully at her, and she wished that she had enough time to use it.

The closet was a monster; a living, breathing monster with layers of neatly hung clothes and stacks upon stacks of shoe boxes. For God's sake, they were arranged by _style_! Sandals, heels, sneakers, flats, strappy, plaid, every catagory imaginable had its own pile. The mere sight of it sickened her; she closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure.

"Kim would kill for this closet," she murmured before immediately curling into gut-wrenching agony. _Kim_..._Kim_...she hadn't spoken the name aloud since the owner had been wiped from the planet. _Kim_...

Leslie straightened, stifling sobs. _Get it together...you can't go in there crying. You're lying enough as it is, you don't need to make up some more. Come on...for Kim. Stop crying for Kim._

She wiped at her eyes, hoping that they weren't too red or puffy. Opening the closet again, slowly, she examined the various dress articles. The letter said casual, but she felt that she should dress up at least a little bit...classy would be the word. Casual but classy. A sleek silver blouse called to her, and she pulled it out. The material was soft, but thick and sturdy. A pair of black slacks, perfectly matched, were folded beneath them. She chose the white sandals, though, over the recommended heels. They were more comfortable and much more casual.

A few people were walking up and down the hall as she left her room, tucking her key safely into her pocket. There were men and women of all ages and ethnicities, though the majority of the appeared to be young and female. A middle-aged Asian woman walked her two young children down the hall, clucking at them in an affectionate matter. An older Hispanic man with a cane glared good-naturedly at passerby, and two young American brunettes chatted together as they carried laundry through the floor, emptying out the hampers outside of the doors. They all looked up and smiled as Leslie walked by.

Sure enough, maps were scattered freely around the Karnak. Leslie stopped by one and examined it carefully. The dining quarters were on the first floor, near the side entrance. Veidt's personal dining quarters was a separate area from the employees', and she assumed it was because he didn't want to impose his personal eating style on others. Making a mental note of where it was, she took a deep, settling breath and started down the wide, arched stairs.

The halls seemed to get emptier as she descended. The employee dining hall was on the other side of the second floor, so she couldn't say that she was surprised. It was eerie, though, walking alone through the richly decorated halls. However, they got barer, steelier, as she reached the first floor. She shivered. Machines started to fill the corners, whirring and grinding along to whatever rhythm they were supposed to be at. The walls changed from shades of pastel to mirrors, reflecting her pale, anxious face back at herself.

The scene changed abruptly as the stairs ended. The walls were still stretches of mirror, but an enormous, roaring fire dominated the far wall and a long table rested in the middle of the room. A magnificent diamond chandelier swayed overhead, but the only light came from the fire. Snow could be seen through the glass ceiling, swirling and piling into the nooks.

A chair scraped and from the far end a figure stood. Leslie knew immediately who it was. Tall, blonde, and broad-shouldered, no one could mistake him. Leslie fought to keep her composure. He took a few steps towards her as she walked to him.

"Miss Jannison," he murmured in a lightly accented voice, taking her hand gently, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Adrian, as I assume you already know." Leslie stared, her mouth dropping open. He most certainly did not look like he was in his forties, not with any sort of imagination. Clear skin, sleek golden hair, a charming smile; he was the epitome of youth. She blinked a few times before managing a laugh that sounded more like she was choking. She cleared her throat, blushing furiously.

"Mr...Mr. Veidt, you..." she began, but he held up a long finger.

"Please, Miss Jannison, call me Adrian. And let's save the conversation for dinner, shall we?" he said, pulling out a chair near his with a graceful sweep. Leslie sat much less gracefully. Several finely dressed waiters entered the dining hall, each carrying platters and variously sized dishes. A dish of boiling hot soup was placed in front of Leslie. _Courses. Duh. I guess I shouldn't be surprised..._

Leslie delicately lifted a steaming spoon to her mouth, making sure not to spill a drop. _Cool, cool, very cool..._

"Ow!" gasped Leslie, expelling an impressive amount of scalding lobster Bisque over the gleaming oak table. Her face and mouth burning, she was stunned to hear rich, deep laughter. Turning slightly, she could see Veidt holding back a wide grin.

"I'm so sorry, Leslie, I should have warned you," he chuckled, trying to stifle his laughter. "Your poor blouse..." Leslie sighed. _So much for cool_. The beautiful silver shirt was spattered with cream-colored stains, while Adrian remained spotless in his crisp, dark blue button-down.

"It's not like I'll run short," muttered Leslie, more to herself than to him. She patted the shirt hopelessly with her napkin.

"Oh? Then your wardrobe is satisfactory?" pressed Adrian, and she shrugged, determined to say as little as possible. "Your uniforms are all the way on the left side, I'm sure you've seen them around. Uniforms are something I detest, but the media loves the image they create."

Leslie nodded absently, enjoying the lobster bisque. It was extremely well-made, not too rich and not too bland. Freshly-grilled chunks of lobster tail actually floated in the silky broth, weaving in and out of swirls of lemon juice. It was the most heavenly meal that she had eaten in perhaps her entire life.

"How do you find the soup?" he murmured, his gray eyes glowing. Leslie looked up guiltily. He was so determined to converse with her that it now seemed horribly rude for her to avoid it.

"It's...great, actually. Like, best soup I've ever had," she hurried to compliment. "Karnak is gorgeous!"

"Yes, I do enjoy spending time here. With the current mood, nationally, I feel as if I'm going to get quite acquainted with this facility very quickly."

"If I may ask," said Leslie hesitantly, "if Karnak is a research facility, then why do you have so much staff?"

"Well, at first it started out with just my assistants and myself," said Adrian, smiling. "I hired a few people for cleaning and cooking and such when research took up too much of our time for us to carry out these tasks ourselves. I needed a greenhouse for experimental substances, and so I needed people to tend the plants frequently and according to schedules and procedures. To keep everything running efficiently, I needed mechanics. To keep business calls and dates in order I needed secretaries. My employees got stressed and so I installed a massage-therapy room. The masseuse got overbooked, and so I hired more. Do you see where I am going with this?" Leslie couldn't help but laugh.

"Wow...that's...wow," she giggled.

"I now have approximately 20 gardeners, 40 secretaries, 10 mechanics, 15 masseuses, 25 assistants, 5 exercise trainers, 20 janitors, 10 pilots, and I don't even want to bore you with the rest. I've had to extend the floors to an underground level to fit all of my research equipment without going upstairs."

The waiters returned to take away the soup and it was quickly replaced by two steaming, bursting stuffed peppers. Leslie cut them open gleefully; soft, buttery potato chunks and chili poured out into a fragrant puddle.

"I do hate to bring up a cliche, but do tell me about yourself. I think we've heard enough about me." He cut out a slice of pepper while she thought.

"Well...I don't have much to tell you. I joined that online-club thing a few months back, I didn't think it would actually help me out like this. I lived in Florida, just me and my roommate. We both had jobs at this local restaurant, worked in the back with cooking. My mom couldn't afford to put me through college, and I didn't want my little sister to end up working as hard as I did, so I put all of my extra cash into savings for her college fund. This job is sort of my jackpot; it's got better pay than anything else I've ever landed, and better living conditions than my apartment. I mean, sure I won't see my mom and sister as much, but it's worth it."

"Your sister...what's her name?" he asked, and it was an innocent question; mere curiosity. So why did her breath catch on her sudden rage? Why did her face heat and her hands shake with anger? Leslie took a deep, calming breath. His gray eyes met her green for a split second before dropping down to the neatly piled remains of the peppers.

"It's...Kate," she lied evenly, hardly able to tell why she lied. Perhaps it was because she couldn't say the name without breaking down. Perhaps it was because she wouldn't be able to bear it if her beautiful name seeped through his teeth. The stuffed peppers were switched out with enormous grilled salmon. Leslie didn't touch it.

"Hm." Adrian sliced off a bite of salmon neatly with his fork. "How would you like to take a tour of Karnak with me tomorrow?"

"I...don't I have to work? Don't _you _have to work?" stammered Leslie, not sure what to say. Was this a normal invitation?

"Well, of course...I have to finish the Atomic Destabilizer I've been working on, not to mention the meeting at ten..." he murmured, swallowing a bite of salmon. "How about tomorrow evening? You should be finished with work by then, and I'll be back here a little after noon."

"Back? You're leaving?" asked Leslie, fighting to keep the hope out of her voice. If he was gone, would it help her chances of digging around a little more, or sending a message to Bobby? She didn't know what she was supposed to be accomplishing here, anyways. He frowned, breaking her out of her reverie.

"Yes...I'm going to Washington tomorrow morning for a meeting." He paused and then laughed. "No one ever asks about the Atomic Destabilizer..." Leslie couldn't help but smile.

"I'll ask if you wouldn't mind stopping and explaining every trivial detail," she proposed, to which he merely smiled and shook his head. "And now you know. Why are you going to Washington?" Conversation with him became increasingly easier, and she found herself genuinely interested in what he had to say. She shook herself slightly; it wasn't smart to get too comfortable with him. But it was unbelievably easy. For someone who was intelligent, rich, athletic, and devastatingly handsome (she had to grudgingly admit), he did an excellent job of connecting with people.

"I have a meeting with President Ford. It shouldn't take long, though, since there isn't much that the federal government can do about the current...ah...situation." He was watching her face carefully, and she made sure not to twitch a muscle. She forced herself to relax and smile.

"Sounds interesting. I'm sure you'll tell me all about it when you get back." Much too full to finish the salmon, she suppressed a groan when the waiters replaced it with generous heaps of Caesar salad. She managed one bite before grimacing and sitting back. Adrian, however, started as mechanically into the salad as he had into the other courses.

"Oh, of course," he said between small, polite bites. Leslie almost gagged, his manners were so perfect. "There should be a television in your room, it's going to be on channel 6. You're not hungry?"

"I've never eaten in courses," she laughed, "and I'm a little grateful for that now. I'd be huge!" Leslie gasped, her eyes huge. Neither of them had failed to notice that Adrian had cleared every plate, and had just finished his salad. They both began to laugh.

"Wonderful. I've eaten a full-course meal every day since I turned nineteen. _Wonderful_," managed Adrian. Leslie paused.

"H-how old are you exactly?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer. _Forty-four, of course...that's what his bio said._ But he didn't look anything like forty-four, not in the least. He, too, stopped to think before answering.

"Well, that's a complicated question. Technically having spent over forty years on this planet I'm forty-four. But biologically, that's something different. It's a little strange..." he added, leaving her no less confused.

"I don't understand," she pressed, "technically forty and biologically not? So you haven't aged?" The thought was terrifying. She didn't even notice when the waiters switched out her salad with a delicate Pot de Creme.

"I've aged, certainly. But more recently, I've..._un_-aged. There isn't really a word for it. Jon might be able to describe it better, but he's working downstairs. I _was _in my fourties. I looked it, too; stress does that to a person. Jon decided I looked old, and he sort of...switched out my body, almost. Jon can change matter to his will; ceramic into glass, glass into brick, brick into gold, gold into paper, et cetera. But why not forty-year-old skin into, say, twenty-year-old skin? Why not old bones into new? Why not old muscle fibers, nerve endings, hearts, brains, livers? Jon wants to know how humans work, if perhaps he could put one together, and I was his first test subject."

"So you're twenty again?" gasped Leslie in stunned disbelief. It was impossible, ridiculous, and yet there he sat, glowingly healthy.

"Not exactly...more like twenty-four or twenty-five. But close, yes." He scooped up a bite of custard. Leslie's mind raced madly.

_Put people back together...like Kim! Mom! Dad! Maybe...maybe he can put them back together, and I can leave this place and leave the rebels and just go back to the way things were...like how they used to be. I can have my life back._

She didn't notice that Adrian was staring intently at her, nearly abandoning his dessert. She absentmindedly spooned a bite into her mouth and was pleasantly surprised by the light taste and smooth texture. Smiling easily for the first time that night, she took another bite and closed her eyes. The sudden sound of a chair scraping across the floor made her jump.

"It was wonderful meeting you, Miss Jannison, and I do hope that we might have dinner again sometime," said Adrian, smiling charmingly and holding out his hand. She put her hand in his and to her surprise he lifted it elegantly to his mouth and brushed his lips across it. Her cheeks flamed wildly and she fought to swallow the enormous bite of Pot de Creme that she had just engulfed. She failed miserably and ended up a coughing, brightly burning mess.

But Veidt simply smiled again and bowed slightly, turning and heading towards the stairs. Startled by the abrupt ending to a long, rather tedious meal, Leslie wiped her mouth and hovered awkwardly by the table until Adrian was out of sight. Then she ran for the stairs.

* * *

"Jon. I have to mark her up, don't I."

It was really a figure of speech, since Adrian had no trouble remembering faces, but he used it anyways. Jon was studying detailed images of human arms, inside and out, on a large computer.

"Yes. I could have told you that before you had her join you for supper," said Jon mildly, zooming in on an artery. "This is fascinating...putting a human together might actually be a challenge. But, more like a puzzle...not an impossibility. Fun, I would say."

"Yes, yes, fun...and you only could have told me because I told you here, now, which I would actually have to _do_. So, essentially, you couldn't have told me _before _or I wouldn't be talking to you _right now_," he said dryly, "Now that that's cleared up, I'm glad that I talked with her. I did notice a few things; she absolutely detests me and she is also a fairly pleasant, intelligent, personable young woman. Although, detests isn't a fair word here...her guard slips a few times here and there, but there's always _some_thing. From her reaction to mentioning her sister, I'd say some family of hers died in New York. She's not alone, anyways. Jon, would you turn on the security cameras for me?"

With a click, several screens opened to various scenes. The flickered from room to room until Adrian entered a code and they all stopped on one room. The door had just opened and a young, dark-haired girl had rushed inside. When she suddenly began to strip off her clothes, Adrian colored slightly and averted his gaze, feeling foolish. It was ridiculous, Jon certainly didn't care and he hardly cared...but a sense of chivalry still lived in him, and chivalrous men didn't watch women dress.

He looked up again after deeming it safe, and was bitterly pleased to see her at her computer.

"Do you have a preference as far as people for me to experiment on?" asked Jon, and Adrian considered this for only a moment.

"No, not really. Only please don't pick from within Karnak, I don't want to have to go through the hiring process again."

"What about the marked?" asked Jon. Adrian was silent for a moment as he zoomed into the screen.

"Not yet...they're no threat to me so far, and I'd like to see where this one goes. I think I can turn her to my side, given enough time," mused Adrian, "and we'll see where it goes."

* * *

_Bobby:_

_I'm in, I've gotten my job assignments, room, and everything I need. Just had dinner with Veidt, crazy, I know, but I found out a lot, like that Veidt is going to be in Washington tomorrow morning. I don't know if my messages are private, so I'm keeping the details to myself for the moment. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, though, it'd be great if you could help me out with that. Tell Paul I said hi, tell Uncle Henry I said hi, and I promise that I'll write again soon once I get the chance. The hours here look great, so you can assume that this means tomorrow, though I make no promises. I'm going on a tour tomorrow afternoon, I'll try to map out the general area for you guys._

_I miss you, I truly do. It's so cold here, and I don't mean the weather. I'll admit that I'm lonely, I haven't had a chance to meet anyone yet and I don't think that any of them will be as great as you guys. I want to come back, and hopefully it won't be long before I do._

_Talk to you later xoxoxo_

Leslie sighed and sent the message, checking it three times to ensure that nothing incriminating was included. The map was stretching it, but there could be various excuses for that. She yawned widely, exhausted and full. The white bed was looking more and more inviting and she eventually gave in and fell through the canopy and into bliss.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen.

Sorry it took so long to update, exams got in the way...so I'm tucking a treat in this extra-long chappie ;)

and because of this _**THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M!! SERIOUSLY, LIKE, INTENSE M. DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT.  
**_

Yeah, after reading some reviews I decided to keep Leslie. It's less of a hassle if I don't have to change the names on all of the chapters. But to answer some questions:

1. YES I realize the chapters aren't very long yet, but as I said I have a habit of slowly making each chapter longer than the previous one, so they should be getting lengthier as time goes on.

2. By 'mark her up' Adrian means that yeah, he pretty much is just keeping a close watch on her, more so than the ones that he can trust. Leslie IS a bit of an experiment for him, to see if he can change general opinion on him.

3. Jon's 'experimentation' is mentioned in the first chapter; he's still intrigued by humans and wants to master taking them apart and putting them back together again, that's why he's studying tissues and arteries and cells. Handling something living won't be as easy as, say, handling a tank for him. Living things take a lot more care and caution.

Thanks for the reviews, all, and I hope to see your comments again for this chapter!!

* * *

Her bedside clock, over which she had no control whatsoever, sang shrilly into the morning, its long-winded beep slicing through the clear, cool air. The words _TOUCH ME _lit up in green on the black face, and she gently tapped the top, silencing the slightly irritating noise. It was eight-fifteen, a little later than she might have hoped but not too terrible an hour.

As she slid to the side of the bed she felt an uneasy twist in her stomach. This was the perfect job, one that many others would dream about, but there were certain aspects that seemed odd to her, as if her life was on strings. Get up at a certain hour, drop used clothes here, dinner at exactly seven...it was too controlling for her to be comfortable with, even if it was an authority kindly used.

The shower was as hot and soothing as it had been the day before, and she closed her jade eyes for a moment, leaning against the cold tile walls. Controlling..._controlling..._

With a loud gasp her eyes shot open, searching wildly. She dropped to her knees, running her hand along the crease of the floor, standing again and stretching to touch the ceiling. Breathing heavily and looking all around her, she nearly slipped on the smooth shower floor. Steadying herself against the wall, she caught her breath and sighed. Of course there wouldn't be cameras in the shower. Adrian was ruthless but he had personal boundaries, and she couldn't possibly imagine him even asking someone else to spy on a girl in the shower.

She watched the last frothy suds from her pineapple shampoo swirly slowly down the silver drain, accompanied by water that never seemed to get cold. Wringing out her hair, she turned the quiet handles and stepped out in a billowing cloud of steam. Wrapping a thick towel around herself, she made her way back to her room. It was comforting not having to shut curtains; there was no one outside who could be watching her.

Just as Adrian had told her, several uniforms were folded neatly on a shelf on the left side of the massive closet. They were a glowing, clear shade of green, and it slowly dawned on her that they were exactly the shade of her eyes. She had noticed that the employees had been dressed in identical uniforms of different shades, but hadn't realized the meaning of the colors until now. If Veidt had anything, it was taste; they were specifically designed to bring out her eyes and cut to flatter her figure. The trim was in dark gray, setting off her light skin tone and her black hair perfectly.

The neck was a deep V-cut, and four gray buttons connected the soft sides. Tight at the waist and smooth over her hips, she fell in love with it instantly. The short, loose sleeves left her lean arms exposed and free to any motion. Since she was doing garden work, the pants were jeans of the same shade of green. They were sturdy and comfortable, hugging her ankles perfectly. It certainly didn't _look _like a uniform; it looked straight off of the working-class catwalk.

The clock shined 8:47, and hastily applied a little bit of eyeliner before yanking her fingers through her short black hair. Taking a final glance in the mirror, she turned and dashed through her door.

Apparently all work began at nine, because she certainly wasn't alone in the halls. People were walking together, rushing alone, and chatting in various scenes. Some were stopped and talking while others were running wildly to what she assumed must be the lowest floor. The scientists and assistants all wore white, she noticed, unlike the other workers.

The greenhouse was on the first floor, as she had suspected. Checking quickly with the map, she took one of the elevators from a long row of silver doors. They were all moving quickly and traveling to various floors as everyone rooted out their stations. A few people smiled, seeing her new face. She was too nervous to really try to make friends; perhaps tomorrow, when she was more used to Karnak.

Shaking herself, she scowled. Why did she want to make friends with them? Why was she making plans to stay at Karnak? These people all supported Veidt, still loved him despite what he had done. But she needed to stay under the radar, and making friends seemed a good way to do so.

There were considerably less people as she reached the first floor. A few were headed towards the greenhouse, like her. She entered the thick silver doors rather awkwardly, not sure of what to do. A young, heavily freckled girl stood just inside the door, grinning widely. She grabbed Leslie firmly by the arm.

"Hi! I'm Cherry Ferrimont, and you must be Leslie! I'm going to be your mentor this week!" Her smile was just a little too bright for Leslie to return. _A week? Geez, they don't do things half-assed here._

"Wonderful. So the work sheets are..." she eased slowly towards a door to her left. Cherry nodded eagerly, jogging over to it and opening it with an odd sense of pride.

"Yep, right here; there's a big file on the inside of the door, they're in alphabetical order...Jannison, about halfway through, so here you go!" she laughed, pulling a manilla folder from the file. Leslie managed a small smile as she opened the folder; there were several sheets of paper in it, filled with various tasks and information. She pulled out the first one, scanning through it. _'Spray L-formula on palm leaves, spread F-fertilizer on banks around the lake, change lake filter on South side, scatter S-bugs through fig trees...this doesn't look too...too..._S-bugs_??'_

"What are S-bugs?" squeaked Leslie nervously. Cherry winced.

"Oh...they're just experimental beetles, Mr. Veidt sent them up from the labs last week. They're perfectly harmless, don't bite or anything, but...they're a little...big," she said hesitantly. "Their jars are on the middle shelf on the left in the staff room, don't worry; you'll see them."

Not comforted in the least, Leslie pulled out the next page. It was a calendar of the month, depicting all of the events of July. It was hard to believe that in most of the world people were going to beaches and tanning and buying shorts. Here in Anatarctica, the sun was only up for a few hours at a time, with long spaces in between. Enormous stadium lights illuminated the thriving greenhouse, providing a replacement sun. It was an oasis in a dead world.

The calendar was filled with interesting tidbits, including interview dates, meetings, luncheons, and so on. Leslie couldn't help but be impressed.

"Hm! Not bad!" she said aloud. Cherry glanced around and leaned forward.

"Yeah...but Veidt runs everything. _Everything_. It's great here, but it's risky, too. Antarctica isn't a part of America, it's a country on its own. Here, you essentially have no rights. Mr. Veidt is generous and I do admire him...but...every day you wake up and pray that nothing has changed. You carry your passport, right?" asked Cherry. Leslie's heart dropped.

"N-no...should I?" she gasped. Cherry looked around furtively.

"Yeah, all the time. Nothing has happened to anyone, but...just in case, you know?" she smiled anxiously and patted Leslie's shoulder. "Now, come on. We need to spray the palms."

* * *

Leslie collapsed onto the pristine sheets, too tired to care about the dirt that smothered her new uniform. Heaven certainly came at a cost; it had been nine hours since work that morning, it was now six in the evening. Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. She had forgotten about the tour she had promised to attend with Veidt.

Exhausted, she dragged herself from the bed to the bathroom, starting up the hot water in the massive marble tub. Plugging the drain, she let it swirl over the floor of the cool white basin.

Slowly unbuttoning her green shirt, she stripped down to her pink-and-purple panties, allowing herself the first leisurely stretch of her long day. A small tin sat innocently on the corner, and she picked it up and skimmed through the label. They appeared to be in Mandarin or something, so the just shrugged and sprinkled the fine powder copiously into the tub. Turning, she headed back towards her bedroom to wait for the tub to fill.

Twisting the knob on the lamp, she was disappointed to watch it spark and die. The room was relatively dark, so huffed and dragged her desk around to face the bay window. Though the computer would light up, she didn't want to ruin her eyes in dark contrast. The light reflected from the snow brightened her desk considerably. She opened the Veidt-support website. She eagerly opened a her new message, but was disappointed to find that it was only from Uncle Henry.

_Leslie_

_I'm glad to hear you're in, though it's not going to get easier. They're bound to be watching you, so be careful with what you say and do. You're going to have to get in Veidt's circle, no matter what it takes. We have suspicions as to what he's up to, and we need them confirmed before we can move into the next phase. Find out what you can, and take a good look at your surroundings, because we'll need briefings later. He's a smart man, Leslie, and a charmer; be very careful. Veidt isn't going to be easy to fool. I'm surprised you made it through dinner, I half expected a call from Florida to pick you up. But don't let your guard down, it isn't over yet. For now, just figure out what he's doing in the labs. Stay low, under the current._

_Best Regards,_

_Uncle Henry_

Sighing, Leslie stood to check the bath. The thick red carpeting muffled her steps, making her progress silent. Everything was silent here, from the snow outside to the flawless faucets of the tub. Only the soothing flow of water interrupted the quiet. Leslie made a mental note to buy a radio.

Opening the door, she screamed.

Frothy peach bubbles smothered the floor, pouring around her calves as she raced to turn off the water. The water itself stayed obediantly in the tub; the luxury bubbles, however, did not.

"No! No, no, no!" she half-cried, half-groaned. "_NO_! Stop, _please_!"

An earsplitting crash tore another scream from her, and she slipped on the mounds of soap, falling hard into the thick bubbles that had looked so deceptively soft. On the floor, they were waist-high which was an unfortunate circumstance.

"Leslie, are you-" Adrian Veidt suddenly filled the doorway, his expression changing from anger to shock to confusion to realization faster than Leslie could cover herself. By the time her hands had reached her chest and an outraged yowl had ripped from her throat, he had already turned around. She hated him; he hadn't blushed in the slightest. "I'm sorry. I was in the hall when I heard you scream. I thought-"

"_Get out_!" she shrieked, her own cheeks flaming. Paralyzed with horror, she didn't dare rise from the floor. He didn't budge, though.

"Are you hurt?" he asked hesitantly, his head bowed slightly. Her anger waned a little at the genuine concern and she found herself stumbling on an answer from the soapy floor.

"No, I just...I couldn't read the...too many bubbles, slipped, just...surprised me, and...and _get out_!" she hissed, less fiercely than before. He turned slightly to close the door to her bathroom, and she heard his steps fade. Her whole torso burning with her blush, she staggered to her feet and locked the door. Feeling more and more awkward with each passing second, she blew out a deep breath and sank into the tub. She closed her eyes.

The bubbles would be taken care of later. Though she knew Veidt would probably send someone to clean it later, she would prefer to do it herself. A little manual labor never hurt anyone.

Trying not to think of what had just happened, she took her time lathering her hair and skin, cleansing the dirt from the greenhouse from her pores. _'Deep breaths...deep breaths...don't think about it,' _she chanted to herself. She numbed her mind for the next twenty minutes as she soaked, cleared her thoughts as she wrapped one of the clean, fragrant towels around herself. She used the other one to wipe up the fading bubbles, gathering the whole mess of dirty clothes and soapy towels into her arms, her own towel wrapped firmly around herself.

Opening the bathroom door, she squeaked in fright. A very familiar man was standing, angled with his back to her, by her door, which was smashed to pieces on her floor. The likelihood of a similar scene in her living room was depressing. She heaved a sigh and threw her dirty laundry to the side, turning to rummage through her closet for clothes. She eyed Veidt's choices; a long-sleeve, close-fitting navy blue V-neck over a cream undershirt and dark denim jeans, tonight's dress was definitely on the casual side. She pulled out her favorite maroon sweater and hesitated before picking out a short, flattering denim skirt.

She returned to the bathroom to dress, unable to quite trust the man standing in her living room. He hadn't looked, it was true, but she had her suspicious as to why he had happened to be so close to her dorm when she screamed.

Re-entering her bedroom, she cleared her throat and he turned, smiling slightly. Only a faint tint of red was detectable in his face, while hers abruptly flamed scarlet. She could feel her cheeks burning, and cursed herself for choosing a red shirt that could only enhance it. He didn't appear to notice, though, or he chose not to.

"I _am _sorry, Miss Jannison. It was only a misunderstanding, I assure you. I had just been on my way to see if you were ready to leave, and I must say you startled me. It sounded as if..." he paused, his smile gone. Before she could process the change it was back again, as bright and kind as ever. "It doesn't matter. Would you still like to walk with me?"

Her entire being rebelled, humiliated and furious, but this was a rare opportunity to wedge into his inner circle, and she didn't want to blow it. She managed a short laugh, though it sounded more like a cough.

"Of course."

He smiled delightfully and cocked his arm. Leslie reluctantly slipped her hand onto the silky sleeve, unnerved by the solidity of the arm beneath it. She took a deep breath and set her jaw as he escorted her down the nearly-empty halls. The few who were outside of their dorms stared openly for a few seconds before hurrying back to their business. Their surprise and whispers struck sudden suspicion in Leslie. She glanced sideways towards her companion.

"How was the meeting?" she asked casually as they approached the elevator. It was as silent as everything else in the goddamned building.

"Wonderful, it went exactly as planned. I spoke with the French and German ambassadors, and they've agreed to support my cause, which should pressure President Ford and Congress into relinquishing power. Of course, the ambassaodors weren't _willing_, but with Jon on my side they wouldn't dare oppose us. The loss of Paris and Berlin would devastate them..."

Leslie pressed her lips together, keeping her breathing steady. When Adrian looked over she smiled.

"You wouldn't _really _destroy Paris or Berlin, would you?" she asked. His brow furrowed.

"I knew I wouldn't _have _to, but theoretically speaking, yes. Nothing is more dangerous than a bluff called, Leslie," he said seriously, and she couldn't stop the tiniest shudder from rocking her. His warm fingers touched her chin and he nudged her face up. "It didn't matter, anyways. I knew that they would never take that chance."

He stepped out right on cue with the opening doors. She followed, startled by the sheer coldness of the room. Physically it was actually quite tepid, but there was no carpeting, no beautiful furniture or windows into the arctic resort. This was an underground lab, cut into the sheer rock and fully wired. Everything buzzed contentedly as various mechanics and scientists inspected the numerous machines. They entered another room, the door shutting automatically behind them. Leslie nearly ran into Adrian when he suddenly stopped and turned around.

"So, since it's about time...how would you like something to eat?" he said hesitantly, laughing when she groaned. "No courses? Then how about takeout?"

"Takeout sounds _great_," she assured him, nudging him playfully with her elbow before catching herself. He gave her a quizzical look before raising his watch to his lips.

"Frida, please send the Chinese to my lab, level 0...yes, thank you," he murmured, slipping his arm around Leslie's shoulders. He turned her to face an enormous screen that took up the majority of a wall. He brushed his thumb across a four-sided, brightly lit remote. Leslie watched it carefully but couldn't determine any recognizable symbols. The enormous screen flashed to a moonlit beach, surround sound and all. It was eerily close to actually being there; even the temperature raised slightly, making her grateful that she chose the skirt. He turned and smiled. He was devastatingly handsome, she couldn't fail to notice.

"Just setting the mood," he said softly, and she realized that his arm was still around her shoulder. She gasped and blood rushed to her face, boiling furiously. Every action, every subtlety, had slipped so easily by her that she couldn't believe how naive she'd been, how trusting. It was so difficult to see him, the enemy, the murderer, as a man that she'd completely missed the signs. The elevator doors that had once seemed to silent opened with a roar.

"Mr. Veidt...?" called out a female voice hesitantly. He turned his head, not moving from his much-too-close proximity to Leslie.

"Set it by the couches, please," he called back, and even the mention of the couches pushed Leslie's flush to a still deeper burn. Had he planned this all along? Had...had she followed along? Dazed and confused, the second whoosh of the elevator was horrifying. Now she was alone with Veidt..._completely _alone...in a country where his every word was law.

"Leslie?" his voice echoed through her swirling mind. A gentle hand cradled her face, and she welcomed it. "Come, let's eat."

Her fear strangled her and she could only nod and allow him to lead her to the low table, where several plates filled with sesame chicken, fried rice, dumpling soup, and a bowl of vegetarian chow-mein sat. She sat and methodolically filled her plate, stopping to grab her tall glass of water and drink thirstily. Adrian dug into the stir-fried noodles beside her, watching her carefully. The food calmed her, and she took a few deep breaths. Adrian rested his arm around her again, and this time every sense in her body was aware of the motion. Her next breath caught in her throat.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked quietly, and she looked up in despair. It didn't help; his eyes glowed devastatingly, and she couldn't mistake the intent in them; she'd seen it before. But she couldn't make herself pull away, not from his arms and not from his gaze.

Slowly, slowly, he leaned forward. He hid nothing; this time he was precise in letting her know exactly what he was doing. There was just no mistaking it. He was letting her know that this was not one-sided, that she had the chance to walk away. But her eyes were locked in his brilliant silver gaze, and she was a deer in the headlights; frozen in fear, indecision, and dread. Even if she still hated him, if she still wanted to watch him suffer and die in agonizing throes, she couldn't have moved if she tried.

His lips touched hers as tenderly as any kiss could ever be.

"_No_!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off of the cold walls, surrounding him with her rejection as she tore herself backwards. For one split second, time seemed to freeze. Her eyes met his, and she saw something that she'd never expected, that she had never seen in someone filled with such confidence, with such finesse.

For only a second, for only an eternity, she saw something shattering in his eyes; fear, hurt, mortification. When the world ended and the second was done, she couldn't see them anymore because they were much, much too close.

He was on his back, thrown backwards by her fierce return. She straddled him, her arms wound tightly around his neck, never letting his mouth leave hers. There was just no fooling herself anymore, no pretending that she was a reluctant recipient. She _had _been, of course, but it was gone now, had given way to urges more primal than any thought processes.

After a few seconds, the air was knocked out of her. He had flipped her easily and with breathtaking speed. Before she could protest his mouth again covered hers, and she noticed a dramatic change in his motion. He had switched suddenly from romantic, deep kisses to a savage, powerful plundering of her lips. It was dark and feral, and so much more intense than anything else she'd ever tried. She panted, trying to keep up with him, but he was always a step ahead. When she began to lose her breath he moved on to her sensitive neck, her creamy collarbone, biting her shoulder hard enough to bruise. She screamed in pleasure and pain, wrapping her legs firmly around his waist.

The maroon sweater was torn from her like tissue paper, and she didn't even have time to mourn it. She steeled herself against his punishing teeth, but he caressed her breasts more tenderly than she would have expected. Running his hands along their smooth sides, he took his time kissing and fondling each. Her breaths came harder now, and she couldn't stop gasping. Sense was draining quickly from her, and she found her fingers fumbling desperately at his shirt buttons.

"Mr. Veidt? You have a call from the Russian embassy," a voice cut in dryly from his watch. To Leslie's furious astonishment, he sat up and pressed the side button. His voice didn't hitch in the least.

"Put him through, Rosella," he said, still gently stroking Leslie's fully alert breasts. He watched her squirm and gasp beneath him while he waited for the call to go through. Leslie, incredulous, tried to free herself but she was trapped, as he had straddled her hips. He half-smiled at her fruitless attempts, capturing a desire-stiffened nipple between his index and middle knuckles. Her back arched unexpectedly and she cried out as a deep voice issued from the watch, presumably in Russian.

Infuriatingly, he continued conversing with the man while casually playing the Leslie's face, hair, and breasts. His cool voice betrayed nothing, but she was reduced to a shuddering, heaving mess incapable of uttering a single syllable without groaning. She was hardly capable of _not_ talking without groaning. As the conversation (of which she could understand nothing) progressed, he slowly began to remove his shirt. Leslie stretched, trying to reach his statuesque face, but his knees tightened around her waist and she couldn't quite break loose.

The conversation seemed to carry on forever. Struck by sudden inspiration, Leslie changed direction and attacked his jeans; his surprise gave her just enough time to get the button before his eyes widened with realization and he trapped her wrists in one hand. His voice trembled slightly from the distraction and his gray eyes held warning, but she fought to free herself. If he was just going to ignore her and expect her to wait on him, he had another thing coming.

Catching on, he released her hands and thrust his free hand behind him. Leslie was confused for only a second until his hand brushed against her inner thigh. She gasped and her hips thrust involuntarily against his. Smirking, he ran his fingers along the sensitive skin, coming dangerously close to her panties before repeating the action. Though her hands were free, she was considerably distracted and wasn't quite aware of the fact.

Teased and tortured to the end of her thread, she had only enough breath to choke out a single word, the final stab to her self-respect.

"_Please_!" she howled hoarsely, tears pooling into her eyes in her intense frustration. Veidt hesitated for the first time in his conversation with the Russian ambassador. He uttered a short, clipped sentence before clicking the button on the side again.

He trapped her wrists in his hands again, and his perfect face was inches from hers. She finally had his full, undivided attention, her most heated desire and her coldest fear. His expression was harsh, unforgiving. He yanked her emerald panties down roughly, plunging two fingers into her. She screamed, writhing under him. She wasn't sure if it was from pain or pleasure, but spots blinded her for a few seconds.

He leaned very close, pulling back slightly when she tried to catch his lips.

"Who sent you?"

Eyes shut tight, Leslie prayed that he wouldn't break her. Still a virgin, the humiliation would be awful if she tore on his hand. Trembling violently, she squealed when he twisted his fingers forcefully.

"_Who sent you_?" he snarled, teeth bared inches from her nose. Tears streaking her cheeks, she tried to stifle her sobs enough to answer him. He sensed that she was trying to respond and relaxed his grip. She gasped and panted, torn between fervent desire and humiliated pain.

"U-Uncle Henry!" she wailed, "I...website...New Y-York-" Pity laced his cold features, and he wiped the tears from her eyes. He heaved a sigh.

"I know," he said almost gently, "I wanted _you _to say it."

Withdrawing his hand from her aching womanhood, he reached into his back pocket. Her heart began to thud erratically as he unwrapped a familiar square treasure, pausing to undo his belt and zipper. His self-control was unbelievable as he rose and stripped to his silky black boxer-briefs, and then stood bare before her. Tall and lean, he was breathtaking in every way. He delicately removed her denim skirt, and then her bright green underwear, as if apologizing for his brutal handling from before.

"We're doing this right. Au naturel," he informed her, straddling her again. Heavy with lust, she arched her back, but he ignored her body's call and took her face lovingly in his hands, staring into her wide jade eyes before kissing her. It was like it had been at the beginning; slow and passionate, filled with caresses and light touches. Their rhythm increased in tempo until her legs were once more tight around his waist, and he'd teased her yet again to the peak of pleasure.

Now was different, though. Instead of torturous, the teasing was deliciously satisfying, promising so much more that was to come. He didn't let her down. When she was gasping and panting again, he flexed his hips, breaking her with one smooth stroke. She cried out, but her pain was smothered by his mouth over hers. She quickly adjusted to him, thrusting her hips up to meet his powerful lunges.

Leslie watched his face in ardent wonder, watching his emotions fly across his face as they had before. They humanized him, showed that Adrian Veidt was not the invincible force that he had once been, and she'd never seen anything like it. Tenderness, distrust, desire, guilt, shame, ferocity...they all revealed themselves as he moved within her. His arrogance, his conceit, his polite charm was stripped away and he was left with who he really was; as human as any other man.

Her eyes began to blur as he threw back his head and groaned throatily. Her melodious voice joined his and waves shook her body as she wrapped herself around Adrian, finally ebbing away as she lost herself to sleep.

* * *

Heh heh hehh...

Please review!! More or less of this? Not that it changes the plot, but depending on your preferences I can -ahem- take it down a notch for y'all.


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